Talk to Me
by Super Puppy
Summary: PreRENT. Mark is pushed to the breaking point by everything going on in his life, and he tells his story to a kind stranger. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: RENT and its characters aren't mine (though I wish Mark was! )

Notes: I was just randomly inspired and decided to write this. And yes, it _is_ supposed to be that obvious who the stranger is, hahaha. Review and I'll love you forever! Flames welcome. Hell, you can ask me about my day for all I care. Just review!

………………………………………………………………….

"Hey there, sugar. Is everything okay?"

Mark looked up. He'd been sitting outside on the curb, bouncing a small rubber ball against the wall of his apartment building, leaning against a tree. It was late October in 1989, and he'd stepped outside the loft to clear his head and be alone with his thoughts. Now this kind-hearted stranger had interrupted his musings.

Mark stopped bouncing the ball and looked up. He saw a thin, dark-skinned man smiling down at him.

"Whaddya mean?" Mark's voice was distant.

"You look down. I think you could use someone to talk to."

Mark chuckled. "About what?"

"Life? Problems with life?" The man suggested. His voice was warm and comforting.

"No thanks." Mark said shortly.

He looked at Mark skeptically. "You're troubled. Sometimes people just need to vent."

"You don't want to hear about my problems." Mark resumed tossing the ball at the wall.

"Oh, come on. Humor me?"

Mark sighed. "Okay, if you insist." He took a deep breath. "Well, I guess you could chalk it up to relationship issues."

The stranger moved next to Mark and sat down. He began to tap his foot in rhythm to the rubber ball. He looked at Mark expectantly.

"Well, I have three close friends. One little piggy moved away, one little piggy turned into a dick, and one little piggy disappeared off the face of the planet. In the body of my friend Rodger, a.k.a. piggy number three, is living some kind of creature that I call the Crack Monster. He's going through withdrawal, AIDS, and grief piled on each other. He's tried to kill himself twice. He tries to kill me most days. I've had to lock him in his bedroom, which has nothing left in it but a mattress now. I put bubble wrap on anything that he could possibly bang his head against."

"Why do you call him the Crack Monster?"

"It's for me. It keeps me sane. I have to remind myself that it's not really him doing all this."

Mark had begun throwing the ball harder. It thwacked against the wall to punctuate each sentence.

"I go in a few times a day to give him food and his AZT medication. He asks me why I hate him so much."

_Thwack_

"People are worried about him. They say I should get away, but I can't leave him alone or I don't know what would happen."

_Thwack_

"I can't afford to put him in a recovery program."

_Thwack_

"My girlfriend has slept with more people since we started dating then I have in my entire life."

_Thwack_

"People tell me I should dump her, but I just can't. I don't know why. We have a strange relationship. I mean, we've been dating for five months. The first month was like heaven. The second month, I saw her kissing some random bar guy. The third month, I caught her in bed with some girl named Kristin. But I forgave her. And I know she's doing it again. She's growing tired of me, too. I think it's only a matter of time before she dumps me. But I've already gotten over her. Is that weird? Getting over a relationship ending before it has even ended? I don't know. But I'm riding this out for as long as I can." He looked up. The stranger was looking at him.

"Riding it out… for what?" He asked.

"The sex." Mark stated flatly.

The stranger chuckled softly and nodded. "Well, okay then."

Mark smiled sadly and looked up, then back at the ball in his hands. He chucked it back against the wall again, resuming his earlier rhythm.

"My bike was stolen."

_Thwack_

"My camera's broken."

_Thwack_

"My dad hates me and my mom calls constantly to nag me about work."

_Thwack_

"My sister Cindy is a big success."

_Thwack_

"I have no job. No money. No food. No medicine."

_Thwack_

"The lack of food money thing is worrying some people. I'm not really eating much lately, I guess. Yesterday Maureen – that's my girlfriend's name, Maureen – tied me to a chair and force-fed me a sandwich."

_Thwack_

"I had to basically rob a pharmacy just to get AZT for the Crack Monster."

_Thwack_

"I've been stealing food from the Life Café to keep us from starving."

He paused for a moment and gripped the ball in his fist.

"I'm just… totally useless." He sighed before continuing his speech. Now that he'd gotten started, he couldn't seem to stop talking.

"Lately, I've saving up to fix my camera. I had figured when I get it working again I could film my suicide." He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the sky. "I was thinking I'd write a will and leave everything to my camera. See what people make of that." He chuckled a little. "Up until recently, I'd spent all of my free time trying to come up with the most creative way to die. I'd decided I was probably gonna let the Crack Monster do it. He's great at that. A few days ago, I brought him some soup and he tried to gouge my eyes out with the spoon."

The mystery man looked at Mark quizzically. "You sound like you don't wanna do it anymore. That's good of course, but what changed?"

"Rodger, well, he came back last week. Only for like ten minutes, but it was him. We talked. He laughed."

"Then what happened?"

"He… turned back into the Crack Monster and tried to throw me out the window. He almost succeeded, too. I had to pick the broken glass out of my arm." But Mark was smiling. He pressed on. "Then, yesterday, he came back again. Longer this time. Over an hour. And he even played his guitar a little. He loves the guitar." Mark explained. He looked happier now. "I just… I think things'll be better when he comes back for good. I know it's going to happen. It's just a matter of time. And I know that, no matter how much life sucks, it always sucks less when it's sucking with someone else. Y'know?"

The listener just nodded and looked at Mark expectantly, but it appeared he was finished.

"Whoa, I can't believe I just unloaded like, my life story onto you. I'm sorry." Mark looked down and ran his fingers through his hair, slightly embarrassed.

"It's okay, hon. You needed it. Everyone needs someone to talk to."

"Do you have someone?"

"I have my Life Support group. But I've been happy lately. My favorite holiday is Halloween, and that's just a few weeks away."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Halloween."

He leaned over and gave Mark a quick hug. "Well, goodbye for now. I have a feeling we'll meet again someday."

"Yeah, I have it too." Mark smiled. "I'll see ya around."

As the man walked away, Mark slowly stood up and sighed contentedly. He looked at the rubber ball in his hands, then chucked it across the street. He didn't think he needed it anymore.

_What an angel._ Mark thought, his thoughts filled with his new friend.

As he approached the door to the loft, he heard the sounds of a guitar being tuned drifting out the cracks in the door.


End file.
